I have no self-respect. But can a man of acute sensibility respect himself at all?

For if there's no everlasting God, there's no such thing as virtue, and there's no need of it.

Killing myself was a matter of such indifference to me that I felt like waiting for a moment when it would make some difference.

He walked on without resting. He had a terrible longing for some distraction, but he did not know what to do, what to attempt. A new overwhelming sensation was gaining more and more mastery over him every moment; this was an immeasurable, almost physical, repulsion for everything surrounding him, an obstinate, malignant feeling of hatred. All who met him were loathsome to him - he loathed their faces, their movements, their gestures. If anyone had addressed him, he felt that he might have spat at him or bitten him... .

The more incompetent one feels, the more eager he is to fight.

I gave up caring about anything, and all the problems disappeared.

One's own free and unfettered volition, one's own caprice, however wild, one's own fancy, inflamed sometimes to the point of madness - that is the one best and greatest good, which is never taken into consideration because it cannot fit into any classification and the omission of which sends all systems and theories to the devil.